


Just What You Want

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Every Color Illuminates (Spectrum Adjacent) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Things, Because LBR it's me, Gen, Hugs, In later chapters - Freeform, Non Season 2 Compliant, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro gets hugs, Sick Fic, Sick Shiro, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, minor H/C
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9415037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: 5 times Shiro got hugged by the team.Written pre-Season 2 but I think we need it more now.Also, nominally takes place in theSpectrum verse, but that only matters in chapter five.Updates Saturday and Wednesday.





	1. Cold Integrity Keeps Me Awake

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate summary: Have some more gen fluff you goddamn animals.

Hunk did not appreciate this.  Not one little bit.

Even after months of living in it, space still wasn’t Hunk’s favorite thing in the world.  The whole ‘in constant free fall forever’ thing?  Not comforting.

Normally, the castle made it feel better.  There wasn’t any sense of movement, there was gravity (glorious, wonderful gravity), and the internal lighting made it feel like just a normal building.

Unless something went wrong, and the life support went wonky.

Who needed that?  Who needed to remember that their lives were dependent on one little system and a couple of crystals, and those going out would leave them all floating around or dying?  Not Hunk.  Not even a little.

Luckily, the redundancies of the system had caught it, but even that was strained by the castle’s age.  So, most everything was working, but the heat wasn’t quite up to snuff anymore.

It wasn’t below freezing.  Not quite.  Just barely a few degrees above.

Hunk was not a fan.  Both because he wasn’t super fond of the cold, and because the reminder of the empty void they were floating through.

Shuffling along, Hunk pulled the blanket up higher on his shoulders and hunched in on himself.  At first, he’d tried to wear the armor, both because he was nervous the system would give completely, and because it was warmer.  But it just wasn’t comfortable enough to justify wearing when his life wasn’t in direct danger.  Plus, the tiny helmet.  Damn that tiny helmet.

Hunk had tried to help for a while, but Coran had eventually shooed them away, content with taking care of it himself.  It really wasn’t a three person job, and Pidge and Hunk had spent more time hovering and shivering than actually helping, so that was fair.

Still, it had been something to do, because now Hunk was just being cold and bored.  He’d almost been looking forward to training, but it ended up being cut short.  With the system strained, no one wanted to tax the other ship functions more than necessary.  After an hour of trying and failing to get them to run laps and do push-ups, Shiro had thrown in the towel on training for the day.

Hunk hadn’t seen him since.

Until now, anyway.

Passing by the observation room, Hunk paused and poked his head in, brows up.  He nearly missed Shiro in the gloom, but the bare minimum glow of the wall designs was just enough to spot him.  

Shiro was sitting nearly against the window, legs curled up to his chest and arms wrapped around it.  From here, Hunk could only see part of his face, but he looked like his mind was a million miles away.

Which was the reason Hunk stepped into the room.  Just in case.  There was nothing wrong with daydreaming but, well, Hunk had reason to worry when Shiro looked like his mind had gone on vacation.  

“Hey.”

Shiro started and looked over, offering a thin smile.  “Hey.”  The sight of Hunk dragging his blankets behind him like a kid must have been amusing, because his lips curled up fondly.  “Warm enough?”

Snorting, Hunk moved in closer, since Shiro didn’t seem to mind the company.  And frankly, Hunk could use someone to hang out with.  Pidge had busied herself in a project, not seeming to mind the cold nearly as much as Hunk, and Keith had disappeared into his room for his daily alone time.   

And now Lance seemed to have joined the ranks of the temperature immune.  Hunk suspected his connection to the blue lion helped with that.  Hunk was happy Lance wasn’t suffering.  Really, he was. It was just kind of annoying to be bundled in blankets and still shivering while his best friend bounded around like it was just a typical day, barely needing his own coat.

That was when Hunk had gone wandering in the first place.

“Not really,” he finally answered.  “How are you holding up?”

Shiro’s nose crinkled in rueful answer.  “I’ve been more comfortable,” he admitted.

Sitting down, Hunk pressed their shoulders together and held open his blanket in offer.  Chuckling, Shiro moved into the touch, taking hold of the edge and pulling it over his shoulder.  Hunk used the other end to wrap around them both, and thankfully the blanket managed without too much strain.

After a moment, Shiro’s eyes closed.  Hunk watched him relax in their reflection on the window.  “That’s better.”

“No kidding.  You’re freezing.  Sitting in front of the window to open space when life support is compromised probably isn’t the best place to be.”

“True,” Shiro replied, eyes still comfortably closed.  He only shifted to pull the metal arm closer to his lap.  It had to be chilled to the touch, by now, which couldn’t be helping.  “It’s a nice view today, though.  I figured I’d enjoy it.”

Glancing out again, Hunk considered the vast, inky blackness in front of them.  With his naked eye, he could only see the tiny pinpricks of light from the stars.  Which made sense.  They’d pulled out of hyperspace to do the repairs, and staying away from large forces of gravity while they were distracted was only wise.  Plus, being a small dot in open space made it harder to find them.

Still, as much as Hunk appreciated space - and he did, because he wouldn’t have joined the Galaxy Garrison otherwise, motion sickness or no - he didn’t really see anything worth mentioning.

But when Shiro opened his eyes and started to watch again, his eyes were bright and interested, slowly sweeping over the vast expanse of it.

“How’s your arm doing?” Hunk finally asked.  “If it’s hurting you, we can make a heating pad for you.”  It was more energy they weren’t supposed to be using right now, but that was much better than letting Shiro suffer and possibly injure himself.

Glancing over, Shiro’s brows jumped.  “Fine,” he answered.  When Hunk stared back, unimpressed, he shrugged.  “Really.  It’s no worse than the rest of the environment right now.  It’s just room temperature.  If the regular air won’t hurt me, neither with this.”

Fair enough.  Still, Hunk used the hand that wasn’t holding the blankets closed to reach across, resting his palm over Shiro’s metal wrist.  It was cold, but in the same way a car might be first thing in the morning.  He’d prefer it be warmer, but it wasn’t going to hurt anything.

But it didn’t need to be that way, either, so Hunk started to rub, letting the metal absorb some of his warmth.  “You could activate the arm for a while to counter this.”

“Not worth it,” Shiro replied simply, relaxing against Hunk again.  “If I repeat that I’m fine, will you stop?”

“I will if you ask me to,” Hunk replied simply.  “But otherwise?  Nah.”

Shiro snorted.  “Fair enough.”  His eyes closed again, and his lips pulled up.  “You holding up okay?   The whole ‘failing castle’ thing isn’t comfortable for anyone.”

Lips twisting, Hunk shrugged, his hand tightening around Shiro’s arm.  “I’ll live. Probably.  According to Coran’s calculations.”  He sighed.  “He counted on his fingers again to figure it out.  It makes me nervous when he does that.“

Shiro snickered, ducking his head.  “Yeah, it’s not incredibly comforting, is it?  More of an art and all that.”

“Exactly.”  Hunk shuddered, pulling the blanket tighter around them both.  “I’m okay, but it’s not a fun thought, to have our life support fail.”

Nodding, Shiro considered him.  “Well,” he offered, words slow and careful.  “It can be comforting, too, in a way.  After all, the system worked.  It’s a bit chilly now, but considering what it could be, this is doing pretty well.  The back-ups and redundancies act as they should, when something fails.  Mostly, anyway.”

It wasn’t any different from what Hunk had been telling himself, but it was nice to hear it affirmed.  Shiro had a way of putting things simply and confidently that helped ease Hunk’s more anxious thoughts.

Scooting closer, or at least trying to, Hunk let go of Shiro’s arm and pulled him into a sideways hug instead.  “Yeah.  That’s true.  Thank you.”

“Nothing you didn’t know,” Shiro replied easily, smiling at the hug.  He switched grips, so the metal arm was the one helping to hold the blankets, and wrapped his natural one around Hunk’s back.  “Okay, this is better.”

Hunk hummed comfortably, knocking their temples together. His headband twisted from the move, and in a bit he’d have to fix it or take it off.  But that involved moving his hands, and he wasn’t interested in doing that.  “Glad that someone hates the cold as much as I do, right now.”

Chuckling, Shiro nodded. “It really sucks, doesn’t it?”  Curling in against Hunk’s side, he buried his face into his shoulder to snicker.  “No one let the Galra know that at so many members of the team can be taken down by changing the thermostat temperatures.”

“Oh, jeez.  And they’re all fluffy too, or armor plated.  The jerks.  Someone should shave them and see how they like it.”

Shiro’s chortles turned into full fledged laughter, and he shook against Hunk’s side.  Then he jolted, and Hunk could hear him trying to bite his lip to muffle himself.  “Haggar but bald.”

“Well, then those big hoods would have a use, finally,” Hunk mused, lips curling up.  “Or Zarkon without his plating.  He’d look like the eels from Ursula’s garden.  All wrinkly and stringy.”

“Stop!” Shiro cried, gently knocking his forehead against Hunk’s shoulder.  “Oh, no, I’ll never be able to unthink that.  We’re going to fight him and I’ll lose because I’ll just imagine that and start laughing.”

Hunk just grinned, unbothered.  “Poor unfortunate souls,” he sang.  “This one wants to be an emperor.”

“No,” Shiro cried, drawing out the word into a plaintive whine.  “You’re gunna kill me.”

“That was my evil plan all along.  Then I will finally be the head of Voltron.”  Hunk tugged Shiro closer, then rocked them both sideways until they teetered over.  And, yeah, that kinda ruined the blanket shield they had going, but it was worth it.

Shiro gasped, then draped his hand over his forehead.  “You fiend.  I should have known.”  Turning his head, he grinned at Hunk, easy and bright.  “You think we could spray paint the lions different colors and try and pass it off?”

Considering, Hunk tilted his head.  “I feel like they’d object to that.”

“Probably,” Shiro agreed.  “But who knows?  Maybe after over ten thousand years they want a change to their look.”

“Maybe,” Hunk agreed.  Flopping back, he took a deep breath.  “Shiro, I have something to tell you.”

“Hm?”

Hunk pouted.  “I’m cold again.”

Snickering anew, Shiro patted his shoulder.  “Why ever could that be?”

“Cruel fate,” Hunk replied, tone flat.

Shiro let out his breath in a loud whoosh, but then smiled.  “Hmm.  Not so cruel.”  His gaze was distant for a moment.  “Not now.”

For a moment, Hunk just watched Shiro.  Then he sat up, using the grip he still had on Shiro’s shoulders to heft him up as well.  “Okay, this would be better on a couch.”

“Probably,” Shiro agreed.  He extracted himself from Hunk’s arms, then shivered.  “Ugh, move quickly.  Cold again.”

Hunk grinned.  “Yes’sir.”

Brows up, Shiro climbed to his feet then offered Hunk a hand.  “Well, that’s one order that gets followed.”

“I feel like you’d have a lot of luck if all your orders involved hugs and blankets,” Hunk replied cheerfully.  “You should try it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	2. Inertia Must be a Con

“I feel like I shouldn’t be encouraging this,” Shiro mused.  He stared up, following Pidge’s movements as she worked on opening the panel.  “You all get away with flaunting safety precautions enough as is.”

Pidge snorted and patted the top of Shiro’s head.  “I’m fine.  Nice and steady.  Just don’t drop me or I’m taking you with me.”  She shifted her weight, leaning forward to get deeper into the workings of the training room.  Shiro ducked his head to avoid getting jammed into her stomach.

It wasn’t the silliest thing she’d talked Shiro into.  Hell, Pidge regularly climbed up onto Hunk’s shoulders to reach anything they normally couldn’t.  But today the pair of them had split up to help Coran run diagnostics, so Pidge had recruited Shiro instead.

Eventually, the weight started to press down, and Shiro rolled his shoulders to adjust.  Pidge barely seemed to notice, moving with the motion without glancing down.  “Is there a time frame on this?  I want to know if I should get comfortable.”

“Ten minutes?”  Pidge paused, tapping her fingers against the wall.  “Yeah, ten.  You’ll be alright.  I’m not that heavy.”

Lips curling up, Shiro considered.  “Hmm, you’re really not.  I think the Galra arm is heavier than you.”

Pidge froze in irritation.

Shiro’s smile grew.

“Actually, maybe we can do this more often.  I can get one of those toddler backpacks for you.  It’ll probably be easier than keeping up with your short legs.”

Pidge put one hand down on top of Shiro’s head, fingers curling into threatening claws.  “This is dangerous.  You know I have heavy tools with me, right?”

Snorting, Shiro glanced up at her.  “You know I can drop you, right?”

“I used to think you were the nice one.”

That only made Shiro laugh.  “It was a clever ruse.  I fooled you all.  Besides, no one likes their CO.”

Pidge scoffed, going back to her work.   _ “You _ like your CO.  ‘Oh, Commander Holt is the smartest person I ever knew’.”

“Former CO, doesn’t count.  It’s allowed now.”

From the lack of audible response, Shiro guessed Pidge had just rolled her eyes and gone back to work.

Rather than continue to be a nuisance, Shiro settled in, tapping his fingers idly against Pidge’s calves.  It wasn’t exactly engaging to stand around, so he spent part of his time guessing what she was working on from the noises she was making, and the rest plotting.

“Okay, there we go.”  Pidge closed up the panel and handed down her tool bag, which Shiro lowered down and dropped for her.  “That’ll do it.”

Shifting his grip, Shiro held on tighter.  “Actually, one more thing.  Emergency drill!  Hold on tight.”

“What kind of- ahh!”  

Shiro took off at an uneven trot, snickering as Pidge shrieked and held onto his hair in a death grip. 

Shifting one hand, Pidge grabbed onto his chin, yanking.  “Stop, I’m gunna fall!  This isn’t a drill at all!”

“Isn’t it?” Shiro replied, all studied innocence.  “Well, if you say so, I guess I should just stop.”

And he did, as hard and sudden as he could manage, planting his feet in and skidding on the slick training room floor.

With a yelp, Pidge tumbled off Shiro’s shoulders, using her grip to just barely hold on.  In the end, she dangled from his neck, feet hanging a foot off the ground, and Shiro had  _ definitely _ lost some hair.

Worth it.

Pidge started to loosen her grip to drop down, but Shiro wrapped his natural arm around her waist, pinning her in place.  “Ahh, I’ve been hit!  CO down, CO down!”  

With that, he dropped backward, going limp as he hit the floor.  Pidge cried out, jolting from the impact.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered, picking her head up.  Her curls were more mused than normal, and her glasses barely held onto the edge of her nose.

Shiro’s brows rose.  “You want those to be your last words to me?”

Snorting, Pidge sat up and considered him.  “I mean, they probably will be.  But alright, fine.”  She cleared her throat, then let out a surprisingly credible wail, falling onto his chest and heaving with dramatic but realistic sobs.  “Shiro!  No!  You have so much to live for!”

“Are you actually crying?” Shiro asked, picking his head up.  Pidge glanced up at him, so he could see the moisture building in her eyes.  “Oh, god, your poor parents.”

Pidge managed to sniffle and actually wobble her bottom lip. Shiro’s awe grew.  “D-do you want that to be your last words to me?”  Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a quiet, watery noise like she was holding back sobs.

Despite the fact that Pidge was mockingly parroting his own words back to him, despite the fact that he knew for a fact this was fake, Shiro’s heart  _ broke. _

“No!”  Shiro sat up and pulled her in, half-crushing her to his chest as he pressed his face into her hair.  “No, it’s not.  You’re brilliant and so fierce.  You’ve come so far.  I’m proud of you.”

For a moment, Pidge froze, then her fingers caught in Shiro’s vest.  She relaxed into the hug, then glanced up at him.  “So.  Weak to tears, huh?”

Shiro froze.  “Um.”

“That was instant.  I didn’t even have to  _ try.” _

Uh oh.

“Man, I learned so much today.  Wait till I tell Lance.”

Groaning, Shiro slumped forward and untangled himself from Pidge to cover his hands in his face.  “Well, my command was nice while it lasted.”

Pidge just laughed at him, beaming.  There was still a hint of redness to her eyes, and even now Shiro had to resist the urge to ask if she needed water or a breather.

What the hell was wrong with him?  He was such a sap.

“Those aren’t bad last words, but I think I’d prefer if they were something like ‘I am so ancient and I lived so long that my time has come naturally’.”  Pidge pressed her head against Shiro’s shoulder.  “And I don’t mean now.”

Shiro snorted.  “I’m in my twenties, I’m not ancient.  Besides, I have my last words planned.  Matt made me promise.”  When she picked her head up, curious, he smiled.  “I am a leaf on the wind.  Watch me soar.”

Mouth falling open, Pidge stared.  “That’s  _ horrible.” _

“Oh, yeah.  Absolutely terrible.  I’m definitely going to do it.”

Pidge let out a snicker, muffling it into his shirt.  “How confused do you think Allura and Coran would be if we started to call the castle Serenity?”

“Extremely.  Let’s do it.”  Shiro grinned into her hair, hugging her gently.  “Hmm, maybe too close to home, though.  ‘Take my love, take my land, take my where I cannot stand.’”

“Maybe, but it might help, too.  ‘You can’t take the sky from me.’”  Pidge turned to glance toward the wall that was closest to the outside.

Shiro hummed his agreement, and they sat in easy silence for a moment.

Finally, Pidge was the one to break it.  “Hey, Shiro?”

“Hmm?”

“I like our CO.”

Smiling softly, Shiro closed his eyes.  “Yeah, I know.  And I like my team.  Works out well, doesn’t it?”

Pidge nodded comfortably.  Then she pulled back.  “Alright, we have a job to do.  Let’s go.”

Tightening his grip on her, Shiro stood, picking Pidge up and putting her down in the process.  “Want a ride to the next one?”

“Will it be nicer than the last one?”  Despite the question, Pidge hopped up when Shiro turned and offered his back for climbing.  “Okay, control room next.”

Shiro nodded and set off at a jog.  Pidge’s grip on his tightened, but loosened when it was clear he was just ferrying her along.

Hopefully they wouldn’t see anyone on the way, and set off another round of arguments about the fairness of turns at piggyback rides.  Once had been enough.

But when Pidge snickered into his shoulder, delighted by the goofing off, Shiro couldn’t bring himself to want it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Enjoy your sibling roughhousing


	3. Rather Stay Awake

There were days when the Castle of Lions was too small.

Well, maybe small wasn’t the right word.  It wasn’t like Keith had managed to explore the limits of it, after all.  But it was the same building, the same walls, the same artificial lights.

It was confining.

Keith had never done well with that.

On the days where Keith felt especially closed in, he spent the nights wandering.  Rather than activating anything, which would leave a trail of traceable footprints in the form of power useage, Keith just took the Altean version of a flashlight with him and... looked.

It wasn’t a great fix.  After all, the castle had been built as a whole, and it matched.  It wasn’t like a city, where each part could look a little different, some older and some newer.  The castle was designed to be grand and sweeping, and that didn’t work if some rooms didn’t look like they belonged.

But it was better.  It wasn’t the small paladin quarters, or the same hallways going to the same rooms.  It wasn’t the training room or the control room, constant reminders of the task on their shoulders.

Keith liked being a paladin.  He did.  It was the chance to do something big, to do something good, in a way the Garrison had never managed to get at for him.  It was his skills put to the best possible use.

But some days, it was heavy to bear.  The pressure was constant, and Keith would let it build and build until he suddenly realized it was about to crush him.  He got so used to it, and he tended not to even think about it until it threatened to undo him.

Those were the nights he wandered.

Today he’d followed the lines of what had once been living quarters, until he’d found a door left wide open.  Confused and slightly worried, Keith had stepped inside, and found himself bathed in reflected light, bright but scattered, and he’d almost been unable to tell what he was looking at.

It was some kind of bathroom, with sloped walls made entirely of almost-unbroken mirror.  And only almost because of the huge spiderweb crack on one panel, which interrupted the shine of Keith’s flashlight, breaking it apart like a kaleidoscope.  And that reflected, and those reflections reflected, until the whole thing was a mass of tiny shining fractals.

It was beautiful, in an almost eerie sort of way.  Probably, someone had left the one door open in the haste to shut down the castle, ten thousand years ago.  Or maybe the door was stuck that way, broken by something ages ago, and during one of their battles, something had gotten loose and impacted the mirror.  Or, hell, maybe when they’d been invaded, or when Sendak had corrupted the castle, something had happened.

Either way, Keith kind of liked it.  Maybe in the light of their simulated day, it would just be an ugly mar, but right now it was cool.

After he’d left, leaving the door untouched and still open, Keith had continued to look around, occasionally peeking into the rooms.  But each of them looked the same, stripped of anything resembling home or personality.  Except for the occasionally ding, stain, or scratch, they might as well have never housed any living beings.

Which wasn’t fun to look at.  So Keith headed back, so he could at least manage a few hours.  More than he usually would on a night like this, thankfully, because after the day’s mission, tomorrow was a ‘work on your own projects’ kind of day.

Well, today.  Technically.

When Keith walked down the hall, he heard a voice.

At first, he whirled, flashlight heavy in his hand as he switched it to a better grip to attack with.  It was probably one of the other paladins, or maybe Allura and Coran weren’t able to sleep, but  _ just in case... _

There was no one in the hall. 

Then Keith heard it again, and he realized it was a scream.

And it was coming from Shiro’s room.

There were many possible reasons for that.  Most of them weren’t good.  But there was one more likely than the rest.

Keith sighed and put down his flashlight next to Shiro’s door.  Then he typed in the code Shiro had given him, in case of emergencies, and stepped inside.

It didn’t take a genius to realize the screaming was going to be worse here.  But Keith still flinched from it..  Shiro was in  _ pain. _  Once, so long ago Keith didn’t remember where or when, he’d heard that you weren’t supposed to be able to dream of pain.  That you’d always wake up before you hit the ground or you were hurt.

It wasn’t true for Keith.  And it certainly wasn’t true for Shiro.

_ “Shiro!” _ Keith hissed, keeping careful distance.  He knew better than to try and touch him awake.  

It felt weird, to talk loudly when someone was in their room and asleep.  But Keith could barely hear himself over Shiro’s noises, much less actually wake him this way, so clearly this was going to need to more.

Taking a deep breath, Keith glanced around for something to help.  “Shiro!”  This time it was a bark, loud enough to echo in the small room.

Shiro shifted, curling up tighter on himself, fingers digging into the sheets.  His breathing hitched, and the way he was tilted favored his right arm, like he was trying to shield it.

Ah, hell.  

Swallowing hard, Keith looked around one last time, but it wasn’t like Shiro had a bunch of knick knacks that were good for throwing.  There were a couple of photos, pinned to the wall by magnets.  There were supplies like pens and paper on what served as a desk, but nothing that would be good for waking someone up.  The pillows were all under Shiro, no longer by his head but twisted behind his back and pressed against the wall.

No help there.

“Shiro!  C’mon, wake up!”  Keith yelled, wincing.

Finally, Shiro woke.  Arm first.

Snapping up into a sitting position, Shiro panted like he’d just run laps around the castle.  Or like he’d spent the past who-knew-how-long screaming.  In the light of the arm, Keith could finally see details, if in a purple tone.  Could see the sheen of sweat on Shiro’s forehead, how his bangs were sticking to the skin.  How the sheets under him had tears in more than one spot, probably one for every time Shiro had woken up like this.

“Hey,” Keith murmured, and he winced when Shiro’s wild, pained eyes locked on him.  “It’s okay.  We’re in the castle.  You’re safe.”

It all felt like such meaningless chatter, but after a few moments, Shiro nodded and closed his eyes. He slumped all at once, leaning back so he was held up by the wall next to his bed.  “What are- did I wake you?”

“No, I was up,” Keith replied.  “I heard you outside the door, though.  You-” He cut himself off and shook his head.  No, stupid question.  Of course Shiro wasn’t okay.  “You need anything?”

If Shiro heard his pause, he didn’t seem bothered by it.  He just nodded his understanding, the arm finally turning back off and casting them back into shadows, other than the faintest blue illumination of the Altean architecture.  “No,” he replied, tight and short.

Keith snorted, loud enough that Shiro’s eyes cracked back open.  “Yeah, you’re peachy.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done this before,” Shiro replied shortly.  “What are you planning on doing about it, anyway?”

Maybe it was a weird reaction, but Keith relaxed.  Surly Shiro was a familiar creature, even if it wasn’t one Keith had seen often since he left for Kerberos.  It brought to mind cool desert evenings, with Shiro’s huffed complaints about instructors and expectations, and his instructions how not to get tangled in the same webs.

Brows up, Keith crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.  “Well, a glass of water, to start.  You probably had your mouth open for a while.”

Shiro snorted, eyes falling closed again.  But he relaxed at Keith’s tone, probably because it wasn’t pitying.

Which was just as well.  Shiro wasn’t going to get pity.  Empathy, maybe.  Worry, no matter if he wanted it or not.  But never pity.  Because Keith would rather tear off his own ears rather than get that in reverse, so there.

“If I take you up on the offer, will you feel better?” Shiro finally asked, eyes still closed.

“If I say no, will you recognize that’s a stupid question?”

When Shiro opened his eyes, Keith just raised his brows at him, waiting for the answer.

Finally, Shiro let out a low breath.  “I’m sorry for waking you,” he replied, and it was so perfunctory and clearly knee-jerk I-don’t-know-what-else-to-say that Keith didn’t even justify it with an answer.  “I’m not sure what you want now.”

Keith opened his mouth, but then frowned, because... well, he didn’t exactly know.  He wanted what Shiro wanted, except what Shiro wanted was probably for Keith to leave him alone while he felt bad.  And that strategy had gotten them exactly nothing over the past several months.

“Will you talk about it?” Keith asked.  That was supposed to help.  Keith couldn’t say he’d ever had success with the strategy himself, but it was worth a shot.

Tilting his head, Shiro considered him.  “Do you really want to hear about it?”

Keith just shrugged.  “If it’ll help.”

For a moment, Shiro continued to stare, gazy inky black in the shadowed room. For a moment, his jaw worked, and Keith could almost see the moment Shiro mentally threw up his hands.  “When I lost the arm.”

That...

Well, it wasn’t a surprise.  But it wasn’t a nice answer, either.

Stepping forward, Keith finally sat down next to Shiro, his back also against the wall.  They both looked at the desk and the pictures, too small to see in the gloom.  “I’ll listen if it’ll help to talk,” Keith offered.  “I can take hearing it.  You know I can.”

Shiro snorted, the sound more than slightly bitter, and Keith winced at the tone.  “Maybe,” he agreed, if reluctantly. “But I don’t think I want to.”

“Fine,” Keith agreed.  “As long as it’s not to protect me or spare me or whatever the excuse of the day is.”

Shiro huffed, but didn’t deny it.

There was silence for a long moment, and when Keith glanced over, Shiro’s eyes were closed again.  He was so still that for a moment, Keith thought he’d managed to drift off in that uncomfortable looking position.  But then he spoke.  “Why were you up?”

“Wanderlust,” Keith replied.  Normally he’d dodge the question.  Shiro didn’t really need Keith’s twitchiness on top of everything else.

Then again, Keith was asking for honesty from Shiro.  The least he could do was return the favor.

One of Shiro’s eyes opened, and the tilt of his brows was bland, but there was a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips.  “Being on an alien planet 12 hours ago wasn’t enough for you?”

“No,” Keith replied, returning the hint of a smile.  “It’s not like we got to explore, is it?  We spent most of it trapped in a building.  I had energy to work off.”

Shiro chuckled.  “Fair enough.  Find anything interesting?”

At first, Keith thought that Shiro was trying to change the subject, and he was prepared to dig in his heels and push again.

Then he saw the vulnerable tilt of Shiro’s shoulders, the way he was still tucked in on himself.  Saw the hint of a plea in Shiro’s eyes.

He wanted Keith to talk.  From that realization, it wasn’t a hard jump to figure out Shiro probably wanted to fill the quiet corners of his room, the reminder that he was in the castle, or just not with Haggar.

So he would.

“Not this time,” Keith replied.  “I did find this weird bathroom, but nothing much else.  The Altean quarters are boring, actually.  There’s nothing there, that I saw.  Maybe there’s stuff left in some of the rooms and I just struck out.  A couple of weeks ago, though, I was wandering through the areas that have the storage rooms, and...”

Keith wouldn’t call himself much of a storyteller.  He didn’t have a great grasp of drama or descriptive language, couldn’t weave a dramatic tale like Lance or pull out sly, snark in the same way Pidge could.  Didn’t have Hunk’s calming voice and aura of kindness.

But Keith didn’t need to.  He had an advantage here, and that was that Shiro  _ knew _ him.  That Keith had been around before things went wrong, and he was still there after.

Slowly, Shiro slumped over, until their shoulders were touching.  And after a moment of hesitation, Keith reached out, wrapping an arm around Shiro’s shoulders in a half-hug.  It pulled Shiro a touch closer, until Keith could occasionally feel the brush of the longer hair on top of his head against his neck.

On someone else, it could have been very annoying, very quickly.  But it was Shiro, calm and steady, and so it wasn’t.

By the time Keith stopped describing the old gallery space he’d found, Shiro was breathing slowly and deeply, and when he started to describe a set of far hallways that ended in strange dead ends, he’d begun to snore.

Then, Keith finally let his voice trail off, and he closed his eyes.

So, okay, he wasn’t getting the sleep he’d hoped for.  But Keith didn’t need it tonight, not with tomorrow being a day to relax.

This was better anyway.


	4. Sing Me to Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Xagrok for the Betaing of this and the next chapter!

“Oh, hey, didn’t expect you up so soon,” Lance called, sliding up to Shiro in the hallway and nudging his arm with an elbow.  “Doing better?”

Frankly, Lance hoped so.  It had been a long, long couple of days.

Last mission, Pidge and Keith had split up to raid the storage area of the base they’d infiltrated.  The reason they’d come was rumors the Galra were building something big, and they’d hoped the storage would have all kinds of supplies that would be good to steal.

Instead, they’d been in worst possible area when the base was overloaded and began to blow.

While they’d gotten out, neither had been in good shape, and they’d spent the last nearly 72 hours in the healing pods, recovering.

Shiro hadn’t slept a wink that entire time, as far as Lance could tell.  

Really, none of them had slept well.  It was increasingly obvious that the team did badly when they were apart for longer than a few hours at a time.  Coran had made noises about the bonds between Paladins and the unshakable, unknowable magic that was involved with the lions.  Nothing specific, but in that tone that meant he was saying something important, even if it was phrased in a flip way.

Mostly, Lance just wished he hadn’t been giving his teammates shit over the comms when they blew.  They were fine, and it wasn’t like it had made a difference.  But...

It was just that, for one moment, Lance had thought the last thing he’d ever say to Keith and Pidge had been a crack about them being too short to move effectively.

They were fine.  They were all  _ fine, _ and Keith and Pidge were now in their own rooms, sleeping off the gross feeling that came from being in the pods for any length of time.  Then Allura had stared the rest of them down and flatly ordered them to get rest or so help her.

It was a sign that Shiro really was exhausted that he tried to argue with her.  He nearly never openly fought back when ordered, especially in front of the rest of them.  

“At least one of us should be awake in case of an attack,” he’d pointed out, shoulders set and eyes fever bright.  

In response, Allura had given him such an unimpressed look that Lance had flinched from it, and it wasn’t even directed at him.

Shiro had stopped arguing after that.

Shortly after, he’d been all but escourted out of his room.  And considering how tired Shiro had been, Lance hadn’t expected to see him for at least twelve hours.

He’d taken his own cat-nap, but that was about all Lance could stand in the middle of the day.  He had too much energy right now.  There had been nothing to burn all the adrenaline of waiting for Keith and Pidge to wake up, and Lance was too twitchy to settle.  So he’d stepped out, and here was Shiro, somehow awake and on his feet.

When he turned, like he hadn’t caught the question, Lance repeated himself.  “You doing alright?”

Starting at Lance’s voice, Shiro turned and frowned.  For a moment, he drew himself up, snapping into his usual demeanor.

But then he blinked, eyes glazed, and he slumped against the wall.  “Yes,” he answered, blinking slowly, and it was obvious Shiro was just responding on autopilot.  Hell, he still didn’t look like he’d understood what Lance said.

Ah, hell.

“Hey there, big guy.  C’mere.”  Lance reached out and took Shiro’s arm.  He started at the touch, but relaxed almost immediately. When Lance tugged, Shiro stepped forward.  He followed, steps stumbling as he walked, and gaze not quite focused.

It was never fun when Shiro wasn’t really home, and this was one of the worst cases in a while.  When Lance took a step, Shiro would shakily step along, eyes on his feet like he wasn’t sure how they worked anymore.  His brows furrowed, and his lips were pressed thin, expression blinked intoa shattered, weak version of how Shiro normally blanked his expression for the other paladin’s benefit.

Seeing Shiro looking so broken was unnerving.

Well, there were lots of things that scared Lance.  He dealt with them on the daily.  This was just another one for the bank.

Turning, Lance started down the hall, planning on dragging Shiro back to his room.  He wasn’t sure how it was that Shiro got this far, or why, but he was better off where he could try and sleep this off.

Except when they got closer to the paladin quarters, Shiro turned away and started to pull.  “No.”

“No?”  Lance titled his head, frowning.  “No, what?”

Shiro shook his head, gaze not quite focused.  “I’m not- busy.  Can’t-”  He tugged their joined arms, frowning like he wasn’t sure why he was holding on.  “Can’t.”  This time, it came out sure and clear, and Shiro turned on his heel and  _ marched. _

Damn Lance’s skinny limbs, because it was hard to so much as get traction against Shiro’s pulls when he was determined like that.  And letting go wasn’t an option right now.  “Hey!  Shiro, quit it.”  But there was no response, and Lance was pulled along the slick floors of the castle like cargo.

Okay, hell no.  Maybe Lance wasn’t going to win the battle of bulk here, since Shiro had at least a solid 80 pounds of pure muscle on him.  But he wasn’t going to lose out to the guy who couldn’t manage a sentence at the moment.

Lance spared a moment to wish he had his armor for this, because a bit of jetpack would be damn useful right now.  Instead, he hooked his elbow around an open door and held on.

At first, Lance thought Shiro would continue on regardless, but the second there was enough strain to start to hurt, he paused and turned back around.  Glancing at their joined hands, Shiro blinked, lips slightly parted and working.  It was clear there was some kind of calculation going on in that head of his, but he seemed to finally hit an error.  Shiro tilted his head like a confused puppy.  

After a long moment, Lance tugged, and Shiro stepped forward again.  “Do you remember where you were going?”

Shiro considered.  “Yes.”  It was a flat lie.

Ah, boy.

Considering him shrewdly, Lance tilted his head the other way.  “Do you want to go back to your room?”

“No.”

For the love of- “Why not?” Lance demanded, throwing up his free hand, now that he wasn’t trying to hold Shiro back.

Shiro looked at him like Lance was the one who had lost the plot.  “M’busy.”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Lance scoffed.  “And what’s so important that you need to be doing, huh?”

“Uh,” Shiro glanced around, as if the answer was written on the castle walls.  “Training?”

“We just got back from a battle.  No training.  I refuse.”

‘I don’t want to’ wasn’t an answer Shiro would normally accept, but today he just frowned. “Oh.”

He stayed quiet for long enough that Lance thought he was casting for another excuse, but then he turned and started to walk again.

“Shiro, if you don’t cut that out, I swear to God I’m going to climb on your back and Ratatouille your ass back to your room.”

Pausing again, Shiro frowned.  “You’ll what?”

Lance sighed.  “You know, the movie with the mouse, and...  You know what, I’m not sure if you’re not getting it because you’re out of head or you don’t know the movie.  This is stupid.  I’m not having this fight.”  He scrubbed over his face.  “And if I get you back to your room, you’re going to walk right back out five minutes later, aren’t you?”

Head tilted again, Shiro didn’t answer.  Probably, that had been too long to follow.

It was time to try a different tactic.

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance called, voice suddenly cheerful and plastering a smile on.  His tone sounded just slightly like he was calling a dog that had escaped its leash, but there wasn’t much helping that.  Besides, it worked, because Shiro perked and finally locked eyes with him.  “Why’d you stop?  We were gunna go to the rec room.”

Lance paused, hopeful that his grasp of Shiro’s brain was enough to make this work.

For a moment, Shiro stared.  Then he snapped himself up, back to looking like himself.  Instant fake, just add excuse.  If nothing else, the mechanics of Shiro’s brain were predictable.  “Right.  Yes, sorry.”  Thankfully, he didn’t question the handhold - all told, it wasn’t that unusual anyway - and started down the hall, for all the world like it had been his plan the whole time.

Well, at least he was easy to work with.

This time, Lance went along with Shiro willingly.  After a few moments, Shiro’s steps started to slow, and a line appeared between his brows.

He’d forgotten again.  

The look of confusion should have been funny.  Any minute now.

“The couches in the rec room will be comfortable after such a long day,” Lance called, trying for casual and missing it by a mile.  But it seemed to be enough for Shiro, because he gave a distracted nod and continued on, back to a fast walk.

Lance had to remind him twice more before they finally made it.  This time, he didn’t bother to try again, just tugging Shiro along.  He sat down on the couch, the patted the spot next to him, keeping his expression expectant and just a touch impatient.  After a moment, Shiro settled next to him, hands in his lap and spine military straight.  Ready for whatever it was he was supposed to be doing, apparently.

Well, Lance didn’t know what to do either.  He just wanted Shiro to lie down and settle for long enough to sleep.  Which was going to take-

Ah, wait.  That was a plan.

“Close your eyes,” Lance told Shiro, voice firm.  Damn near a command, honestly, which felt just weird to do with Shiro.

But after a moment, Shiro obeyed without complaint.

Then, Lance leaned sideways and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s torso in a loose hug.  At first, he started, surprised by the contact, but then he suddenly, forcibly, relaxed again.  He’d probably opened his eyes, and then immediately shut them and pretended he hadn’t.  Like a little kid.

Which, okay, yeah.  That part was kind of cute, even if the reason was shitty.

Lance stayed there, counting off a minute or so.  Then he went limp against Shiro, and evened out his breath, until he was just shy of snoring.

Another minute later, Shiro started to shift, and for a moment to seemed like he’d get up.  But Lance continued to feign sleep, and Shiro went still again.

Because Shiro knew the rules just as well as anyone else.  Moving when someone was sleeping peacefully on you was basically illegal, except in cases of critical bathroom need or emergency.  Even if Shiro was dazed and distracted, he wouldn’t get up if Lance was sleeping on him.

Which meant Lance just had to fake it well enough to keep fooling Shiro.

Turned out, that wasn’t difficult.  Normally, Shiro would have figured it out, probably, but right now he was way too out of it.  He seemed to be accepting everything at face value.  So he’d stir and start to move, only to immediately go limp again.

It was a good thing Lance wasn’t actually asleep, otherwise the constant movements would have been pretty unpleasant.

Otherwise, though, it was pretty comfortable.  Lance liked hugs with everyone on the team - when he could get them - and while Shiro’s hugs weren’t up to Hunk’s godly levels, he was pretty cozy to lay on.  There was always an element of guilt of lying on Pidge, since she was so small.  Even if that wasn’t a problem, she was made almost entirely of pointy joints.  Keith tended to not enjoy the contact after about a minute tops, unless it was special circumstances, so he was a lost cause.  

Eventually, Shiro’s arms wound around Lance in return, cradling his shoulders and wrapped securely around his waist.  At one point, Shiro tugged him closer and shifted his head, so Lance’s forehead was leaning against Shiro’s chest instead of his shoulder, which was honestly a step up.  The move was nearly clutching.

Lance remembered how Shiro looked so off balance, when he wasn’t faking being together.  The element of fear and protectiveness and the need to do something.  How he’d been avoiding sleep, and probably nightmares.

If Shiro needed a reminder that someone was there, that his team was safe and cared for, that they’d all gotten out of this in one piece...

Well, Lance could provide that.

Slowly, inch by inch, the grip loosened.  Lance thought maybe it was because Shiro was starting to feel better, but after a few more minutes, Shiro’s breath evened out and deepened, and soon after that he started to snore.

At that point, Lance probably could have gotten away.  Shiro was a known light sleeper, but the snores meant he was down for the count.

But, well, the arms around Lance were pretty comforting too.  Shiro wasn’t the only one who had been tense and unhappy the past few days, and even when he was out of it, Shiro managed to feel safe and protective.

Plus, he was warm, and he was comfy.

So he’d stay for a little while.

Just a few minutes more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Saturday we finish it off with Sam Holt, so this is the point where that Spectrum Adjacent thing comes into play. If you're looking on a primer of 'Sam who? What's going on?', try the last chapter of [In Need of Something Good](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7878805/chapters/18615178) and then all of [Unleashed the Dogs of War](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8310106)


	5. Sick of the Past (I can't erase)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already read the rest of Spectrum Verse, I would advise you at least read Unleashed the Dogs of War before this chapter.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

Sam sighed and sat down heavily, a book in his lap.  Across the room, covered by two extra blankets and flushed with fever, Shiro slept on.

Finally.

It had been a long couple of days.  First, the last battle to liberate a planet had ended up with several wounded hostages and prisoners.  It was always hard on everyone when a plan went badly, especially when innocents got involved.  But there was no way to avoid casualties every time.

Sam had learned the inevitability of making the wrong decision years and years ago.  There was no way to make the correct call day after day after day.  All you could do was try your best.

It was a lesson the paladins were slowly learning.  And there wasn’t much Sam could do to help other than offer an ear.

The prisoners who had survived had been put into the pods to recover, and even then only in the most dire circumstances.  There was limited supply, after all, and those who could survive a few days on their own were forced to wait for those who couldn’t.  

But the day after the battle, Shiro had started to sneeze and slow down.  That wasn’t unusual.  Even months after his captivity, Shiro had a tendency to catch bugs the others were able to fight off.  No doubt, part of it was due to that deviated septum of his, since even Sam and Matt weren’t nearly so quick to pick up any illness.

This one had been a touch stronger, though.  Within a few hours, Shiro had been unable to get out of bed.  

On a normal day, he would have been escorted into the pods for a few hours and come out shaky but relatively healthy.  But even if Shiro’s situation had been dire enough to override any of the prisoners, he wasn’t willing to do so.

Besides, Shiro was young and relatively healthy.  There was no reason he couldn’t fight off a little bit of a flu on his own.  At least, that’s what he’d said, though the near constant coughing had made the claim dubious.

Then Shiro had put his foot down and insisted he be quarantined, to avoid taking down anyone else with him, and...

Well, Sam wasn’t exactly going to accept that.  Besides, as an advisor position rather than a combatant, he was less necessary in an emergency.

Which was about half of it.  

The other half was that he refused to let Shiro suffer alone.  Sam might not know exactly what Shiro’s life had been like before joining the Galaxy Garrison, but he rarely so much as mentioned his family.  And Sam knew that Shiro’s fierce independence probably had an original cause.

That ended now.  And Sam was the man for the job.

On the bed, Shiro stirred, a deep line appearing between his brows.  Without opening his eyes, he started to kick and squirm.

A nightmare?

But no, Shiro’s eyes finally cracked open, hazed from fever, as he continued to squirm.

“Need help there?” Sam called, putting aside his book.  It was a Altean light novel, and Sam was picking his way through it painfully slowly.

Starting at the voice, Shiro stared at him, blinking slowly.  “No,” he managed, voice a rough croak.  “M’good.”

Yeah, Sam believed that, just like he believed Shiro slept a solid 8 hours a day.

Arching his brows, Sam tried a different tactic.  “What are you doing?”

Shiro frowned at him, glancing through his sweat-ruffled bangs like he wasn’t sure what Sam’s game was.  “Getting off the blankets,” he finally replied, an edge of wary sulk to his voice.

Honestly, considering how miserable Shiro sounded, Sam shouldn’t find it funny.  Except that he was so indignant and scruffy that Sam had to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks or ruffle his hair.  

Instead, Sam carefully peeled off the top blanket, then sat at the edge of the bed.  “Better?”

Shiro started to nod, then crinkled his nose.  “No.”  He sat up, sitting until the remaining blanket settled in his lap instead, then reached down and pulled off his shirt.  The vest had been discarded hours ago, due to being uncomfortable, but Sam had thought Shiro would appreciate being covered, temperatures or no.

Apparently either Sam had misjudged, or Shiro was so out of it he’d forgotten.

It still made Sam’s heart clench to see the mess of scars that littered Shiro’s chest.  And as much as he scolded the others for their tendency to horde guilt, Sam couldn’t help feeling bad it had happened under his command.

But there wasn’t much Sam could do about that now.  It was done, and the best thing he could do was help the less physical scars.  Those could still fade and heal.

Reaching out, Sam pressed the back of his hand to Shiro’s forehead, considering.  He didn’t feel any cooler than he had earlier.  They’d been hoping it would burn through him quickly, but that might not be the case.

Well, as long as they were healing the prisoners, the castle wasn’t going anywhere regardless.  They just had to hope any Galra retaliation didn’t require Voltron.

“Why?” Shiro asked, so suddenly that Sam started.

Pausing, Sam waited for an elaboration.  When he got none, he pulled his hand back.  “Why what?”

Shiro nodded toward the hand in Sam’s lap.  “Touching.  Not the pad scan.  Why?”

“Habit,” Sam replied.  “This isn’t my first time helping someone through the flu, you know.   The other two always caught it once every two or three years, one or the other.  The only predictable thing about them.”  He’d hoped the joke would at least make Shiro crack a smile, but he only nodded dazedly, like Sam had been utterly serious.  “I suppose it was your turn.”

“Oh,” Shiro replied.  “Okay.”  He flopped back on the pillows, eyes closed.  “Never had it before.  Just colds.”

Sam’s brows up.  “Well, you certainly don’t have the usual kind.  I’d be very impressed if you got an Earth-native virus all the way out here.”

Humming, Shiro nodded.  “You took off work for Pidge and Matt?”

There was something just slightly vulnerable about the question, and Sam stilled.  “Of course.  Well, sometimes.  Depending on which of us had the least to do.”

Shiro’s brow crinkled again, this time just barely visible.  “Good.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Sam replied, bone dry.  Reaching out, he used his fingertips to brush the bangs off of Shiro’s forehead, so they’d stop sticking to it.  “We weren’t going to leave them alone.  What if they need something?”

“It was fine,” Shiro replied, barely sounding awake.  At first, Sam thought the reply was nonsensical, just Shiro throwing out phrases to respond.

Then he realized Shiro meant he’d been fine, when left alone.

Sam swallowed hard, pulling his hand back.  A frown flashed across Shiro’s face, so quick it was barely visible, but then he settled back down.  “You grew up with your aunt and uncle, correct?”

An agreeing hum was his response.

“Were they very busy?” Sam asked, carefully keeping his tone light.  He was glad Shiro didn’t seem interested in opening his eyes again, even when Sam pulled the covers back over him.

Shiro sighed, burrowing into the covers, apparently no longer overheating.  “Mmm.  Yeah.  Usually.”

Usually.

Once they were back on Earth, Sam had some investigating to do.  It was on his list.

For now, Sam had a more important job to do.

***

While Shiro slept again, Sam slipped out to go get water and something that Shiro could hopefully stomach. 

“How’s he doing?” Katie asked, picking her head up.  The table in front of her was nearly completely covered in papers, scattered in an order that Sam knew from long experience was organized to her own specific, unique code.  It was a tool she’d picked up from her mother, which regularly drove Sam crazy.

Or, it had.  Now he was endeared by it.

Some day soon, he could go back to being annoyed by the mundanities of life.  But not quite yet.

“Alright,” Sam replied carefully.  “Still feverish, but nothing dangerous.  He was up and talking a little while ago.”

Katie nodded and began to rearrange her papers.

Offering a smile, Hunk handed Sam a container of what was essentially broth and a soft grain not unlike rice, which should be gentle enough for a sick stomach, with thin wafers similar to crackers balanced on top.  “I’m glad he’s doing better.  We were worried when he practically collapsed into his breakfast.”  Sam tucked it under his arm, so he wouldn’t need to other hand to keep balancing.  

“I wouldn’t call him recovering, just yet,” Sam replied carefully, offering Hunk a smile of his own.  “But he’s comfortable, at least.”

Matt snorted.  “Hey, you got to that point.  He couldn’t do it on his own.  Progress.”  He settled at the table across from Katie.  Whenever her attention was away, he’d flip a page around or turn it upside down.  

Really, Sam should intervene, but... well, Matt knew what would happen next.  His son was too old to be protected from the consequences of his actions all the time.  If he chose to annoy his sister, he deserved the bruised shin he’d get.

“If you need any help, you can send a comm message,” Hunk offered, eyes bright and steady.

Sam smiled softly.  “Thank you.  I’ll keep you all updated.  I’m not sure it’ll be over tonight, but it’s nothing to worry over just yet.  Are you all off for the evening?”

Nodding, Katie glanced up just as Matt flipped another page and scowled.  She shifted in her seat, and a moment later Matt yelped and pushed his chair back and away from her.  Then she turned back to Sam, lips curled in satisfaction at her revenge.  “Yeah.  Allura and Coran are still tackling the leaders of the planet and the logistics of the pod usage.”

“It’s busy in there.  This is the first long break I’ve had all day,” Matt offered.  “But I’m mostly learning from Coran right now.  So if you need anything from the infirmary again, just yell at me.”

Sam’s lips curled up.  “I have plenty of practice.”  While Matt held a faux-wounded hand to his chest, mouth open in dramatic offense, Sam shifted his grip.  

“Need a hand?” Hunk offered.

Shaking his head, Sam straightened up.  “No, just making sure I had a good hold.  I’ll see you all at dinner, I suppose.  And if Shiro starts to pick up, I wouldn’t be opposed to running some training.”

Immediately Matt grinned and started to snicker.  “Ooh, I’d love to see that.”

“You’re certainly invited as well,” Sam shot back, brows up.  “In fact, I insist.”

“Very busy.  I can’t drop everything just like that, you know.”  Matt leaned back in his chair, shrugging.  “Tell Shiro he should get better soon, but fake it for a while.  Let us all have a day off.”

Hunk snorted.  “Yeah, that’d happen.”

“I refuse to pass on that message to Takashi,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes.  “Have a good lunch.  And please stop bothering your sister, if you can’t be mature enough to control yourself.”

Hadn’t he just said he was going to let Matt suffer?

Old habits died hard.

While Matt rolled his eyes, Sam nodded to Katie and Hunk and made his escape before he could be pulled into more banter.  He made a mental note to apologize to Coran, later.  When Matt was worried, he tended to be a bother more aggressively.

The best way of dealing with it was to fix the source of the anxiety.  Which was what Sam planned to do.

The door to Shiro’s room opened to him, and Sam stepped inside.  To his surprise, Shiro’s eyes were opened.  But they didn’t focus, either, not really.

Shit.  Sam hadn’t wanted Shiro to wake up alone, after that confession earlier.

Setting aside the food, Sam reached for Shiro again, trying to feel his forehead.  But Shiro flinched from the move, eyes clenched shut.

Shit again.

“Takashi?” Sam asked gently.  “Do you know where you are?”

Blinking his eyes back open, Shiro’s brow furrowed.  “C’m’der?”

Commander?  Oh, dear.

“Yes,” Sam replied.  “I need to feel your forehead, Takashi.  You’re not well.”

Shiro gave a tiny nod.  “Feel asleep again?  M’sorry.  Shouldn’t be alone.”

At first, Sam thought he meant falling asleep earlier today.  Then it clicked.

Shiro was thinking of during the Kerberos mission, when he’d drifted off during a safety check.  And he was wearing the same expression he’d sported then, guilty and vulnerable, terrified of failure.

The look was the same, but the face wasn’t.  And the difference made Sam’s stomach twist.

“You were supposed to be sleeping,” Sam soothed gently, pushing Shiro’s hair out of his face again. The touch felt like it could scald.   “That was exactly right.”

Expression relaxing, Shiro nodded.  “Oh.  Okay.  Good.”  He closed his eyes again, but this time not like he was drifting, but like the light of the room was too much.  When Sam got up, he’d turn it off, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to step away from Shiro.

Pulling his hand back, Sam watched him carefully.  “Do you think you could eat?”

Immediately, Shiro’s nose crinkled.  “No.  Don’t want the packets.  Gross.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Sam replied, amusement creeping into his voice.  “There’s real soup.”  Ish.  It was actually soup in that it had the components of one, but not anything Shiro would have eaten before, at least that he could remember.

Opening his eyes again, Shiro stared.  “Real?”

Sam picked up the container and opened it, letting Shiro get as much a whiff as his stuffy nose would allow.  “See?”

“Oh.”  Shiro shoved himself up until he was sitting, though his arm shook from the strain.  For a moment, Sam thought he’d notice the prosthetic or the scarring, but those didn’t seem to bother him.  Well, that was good, at least.  One less thing to worry about.  For a moment it looked like he’d question how this was possible, but then he visibly gave up and accepted the soup and the utensil.

It was slow going.  Thankfully, the metal arm still didn’t seem to register as Shiro tried to make his shaky arms stay still.  By the time the spoon made it to his mouth, it was only about half full.  But Sam figured Shiro would fight having it done for him, and it was good to get him a little more active and aware anyway.

Finally, Shiro pushed it back onto storage next to the bed, shaking his head.  “Can’t.  Sorry.”

“You did well,” Sam soothed.  “I’m proud of you.”

The words seemed to land harder than Sam had meant them to.  Shiro’s eyes went wide, and he glanced up, lips slightly parted in surprise and something like awe.  “Yeah?”

Something in Sam’s chest melted like chocolate on a hot plate.  “Of course,” Sam replied, gentle and warm.  “There’s a lot to be proud of.”

“Oh.” Shiro’s expression didn’t change, still stunned, but his shoulders slowly relaxed into a slump.  He didn’t seem to know what to do with the knowledge.

That was alright.  Sam did.

Scooting over, Sam pulled Shiro into a hug, purposefully angling him so Shiro’s forehead would settle on his shoulder.  

At first, Shiro stiffened like he wasn’t sure how to hold himself.  But when Sam’s hand started to pet down his back, Shiro went boneless against him, trusting and soft.

Sam kept up the slow, steady pace, waiting for a sign that Shiro was uncomfortable, or that his fever was making this a problem.  

Then Shiro started to snore.

Smiling, Sam leaned his head sideways, resting his cheek against where the hair on top of Shiro’s head faded into the buzz.  If Shiro could relax well enough to really drift off like this, then Sam wasn’t inclined to move just yet.

Instead, he slowed his movements, letting his fingers trail down Shiro’s exposed back, taking notice of each of the scars.  There was one that looked like a bite that was as large as Sam’s entire hand, several puncture marks ranging from the size of a dime to the size of a fist, and all manner of scratches and burns.

As much as Sam wished Shiro had never faced those horrors, they were something to be proud of.  Because Shiro had survived, and he’d fought, and he’d found them again.  And now he continued to fight, long after he’d earned this rest.

The first time Sam had seen Shiro was years ago.  He’d been taken aside by Monty and pulled into the observation deck to watch the junior class simulations.

“Him,” Monty had said, pointing Shiro out.  “Takashi Shirogane.  He’s the one we’re looking at.”

Sam had shaken his head and eyed him, meeting Monty’s remaining eye.  “Him?  He’s a boy.”

“Same age as yours, and we’re looking at him too,” Monty replied, shrugging.  “He’s shattering records.  We need something that matches him.  And he’d be good under your command.  Level headed.  He could be something.”

Sam had watched the playout of the simulation, as Shiro shot through the course like he’d personally built it, eyes bright.  He was talented, clearly.  But Sam had still eyed him dubiously, because it took more than talent in a mission.  He needed drive, needed discipline, needed the ability to push through.

At the time, Sam had looked at this Takashi kid and thought ‘maybe someday he’d get close.’

And then Shiro had broken all of Sam’s expectations, the same way he’d blasted past all the previous records.

Thinking back on how dismissive he’d been, Sam wanted to laugh.

He’d had no idea.

And maybe, in a few years time, he’d be looking back on this moment and thinking the same thing.  That he’d completely underestimated this boy, and that there was so much more to come.

Sam was looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find more at [my tumblr](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com).


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